


The Firebird

by inevitablewebreathe



Category: Saint Beast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Botanemorphic Characters, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Quests, Zoomorphic Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitablewebreathe/pseuds/inevitablewebreathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An original fairy tale recounting the quest of a solitary huntsman for the magnificient Firebird, and the sorrows and joys he encounters thereafter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Firebird

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically born of a self-imposed challenge, concerning whether I could write something that would function equally well as an original fairy tale _and_ a fanfic. Because fanfic generally depends on complex characterization and interaction whereas folk tales rely on very focused themes and the characters often have only one principle trait, I've worried a lot that I've failed on one or another count and have long delayed posting this, but I did give it my best effort to make it feel like it was both and I hope for SB fans that it works.
> 
> I chose the Firebird quest as the basic pattern but this fic is not a retelling of any pre-existing Firebird story, just to give a heads up. That said, it contains common elements and allusions to other fairy tales and even plain old fantasy fiction, because these familiar tropes are so interesting to me. I hope there's some fun to be had in picking them out. I also hope the zoomorphic versions of some of the characters are obvious and don't pain anyone too much. I guess it's time to stop worrying and just let go of this.

Once there was a huntsman named Luca who lived in a small village. It was a very insignificant part of the kingdom (which at that time was ruled by a fearsome and proud king) but, as you know, the simple life is the best life, and so did the huntsman lead a happy, if solitary, existence.

One day as he was preparing for the hunt strange visitors came riding through the town, gathering a crowd in the square. They wore the royal crest upon their armour, whether anyone recognized it or not, and had very finely groomed horses. “We come on the king’s errand,” they said, “to look for a man with silver hair.” There were more than a few silver-haired men in the town, and each who was present looked at the others uncertainly. “We look for a man with red eyes,” they said, and many sighed audibly at this. There were only two such men in this little village, one an old grey grandfather with a surly brow and one the solitary huntsman. “We look for a man of twenty-three winters,” they said, and now all the townsfolk had turned their eyes to Luca although none spoke out. “But most importantly,” they said, “We look for a man with a strange mark upon his forehead.”

Upon hearing this Luca no longer hesitated, having no crime or wrongdoing to fear, and removed the turban covering his forehead, which revealed a mark none in the town had ever seen. “By your words I am the very man you seek. What is the king’s errand?”

“That shall be revealed in time,” said the soldiers. “You will come with us.”

Although he was afraid to leave the familiarity of his hometown, Luca stoically left everything behind, unaware of the adventures that lay before him.

It was two days hard ride to the capital, a city so grand the likes of which Luca (nor you nor I) had never seen. He was brought into the palace before the king, who sat in a great hall resplendent in gold-plated ornaments, grand tapestries and tall marble statues.

The king’s purpose was this: you see, although the king was yet hale, he felt the years wearing on him and the Queen had given him no sons. He recalled long ago he had a mistress (for the king was not a very good man) who had born a boy-child, one who could not be mistaken but for his own. So he sent riders out to search for this child, if he still lived, to bring him to the king so that he may judge whether he should be a worthy heir. All this the king explained to the huntsman Luca, who was astonished to learn of his heritage.

Upon this revelation, the king stood up to pace in front of his great throne. “You are my own, of which I have no doubt, but to look at you I cannot know whether you are worthy. Therefore I will send you on a quest. Should you prove your worth, you shall reside here without want or lack and inherit the kingdom when I pass. If you fail...” He left this last to silence.

Luca nodded to his newfound father, and asked, “What quest shall I endeavour?”

The king signalled to his servant who brought forth a large but shallow wooden case. Inside the case lay a long, elegant feather with colours so fierce and shining that it glowed like a flame.

“A bird stopped in my orchards many weeks past, deigning to steal my fruit. Its tail shines like fire and its song bewitches the ears. I tried to have it captured, for it is the most magnificent bird you will ever see, but it flew away into the West, and it has not been seen since. If you are a worthy and faithful son to me, you must bring this Firebird to my palace.”

Luca, who could not refuse the king’s request, began preparations that night. 

Ready to set out on his quest, the solitary huntsman realized he knew not where to look. He asked the people of the capital (who were not very friendly) if they had seen the bird pass. The only answer Luca received was “West! West!” and he was beginning to despair. Reaching the outskirts of the city, he decided to trust to luck and journey in that direction. No sooner had he passed the walls than one last citizen of that great city came to him.

“I saw the Firebird,” he said, “fly into the West. I saw him fly over Fang Mountain, to the foothills beyond. If you would find the Firebird more quickly, I say to you take the path that leads under the mountain. Surely you will save time.” 

The huntsman thanked the red-haired man for his trouble and took heed of his words. After much travel, Luca reached the pass beneath Fang Mountain. He felt a sense of foreboding standing in front of its black maw, but shouldered his pack and braved the tunnel, knowing he was chasing something far gone from this place already. As he wandered down the dark path, he could hear the sound of heavy breathing, so great it was hard to believe it was human. Readying his hunting knife he stalked towards the noise as the tunnel opened out into a very great hall. 

A giant blue beast rose from the darkness above him. It reared on its hind legs, brandishing its claws, screeching loudly, and Luca felt a moment of terror, before realizing the dragon was not free. A great chain was bound around its neck, tied to a stake driven into the rock, and its jaws were clamped shut with rope. It made a show of its claws but Luca calmly examined it now, quite safe from its wrath.

When it finally settled down, realizing its own impotence, it spoke to Luca as if by its mind alone. _Are you one of the king’s men?_ it asked in anger.

“I am his son,” he answered truthfully, “but I only come here passing toward some other errand. Your quarrel is not with me, nor mine with you.”

 _If I am to believe your goodwill, then you will free me from my chains,_ the dragon said.

“How can I trust you?” Luca asked. 

_I will offer this advice as a show of good faith, for I have read your aim in your thoughts. You seek for the Firebird, a most perilous quest, although you don’t yet know it. You must go to the Lord of the Lake, for he knows much and has many answers. Now, show faith by me, friend, and release me._

“For your good turn I will indeed release you,” Luca said, bringing his knife to the rope.

 _Alas,_ the dragon said, before he could make the first cut, _the king had the rope enchanted so that I could not tear it by my claws nor use any human weapon to rend it, and tied it too tightly for my fire to escape. You must think of something else._

Luca was puzzled for a moment, before an idea came to him. He produced his tinderbox and flint from his pack, striking them to create a small red flame, burning through the muzzle that sealed the dragon’s mouth shut (for magic is elemental and so always vulnerable to its likeness). The dragon leaped up and rejoiced upon its freedom, producing a very great flame that burned through the chains holding it down. It stood proudly now and faced its guest.

 _I cannot exchange something for nothing, but I wish to give you a second gift out of gratitude for your aid. If you will give that flint and tinder as a gift to me, I shall give you a much greater prize in return,_ said the great blue dragon, producing a delicately detailed box from the pouch of its stomach.

Luca examined the box, so small it could hold nothing bigger than a ring, but rich in ornament. Although he feared what would become of him without fire, he could not reject the gift of a dragon. “In return for my tinderbox I will accept this wonderful gift you have bestowed on me,” he said.

 _Then we stand in equal favour,_ said the strong and powerful creature, placing the small box in his hand. _A word of caution: use it only in great need. The gifts of a dragon are only given once._ Luca nodded solemnly, and made his way out of the cave.

Upon reaching the other side of the mountain, Luca found himself in the long grass of the foothills. He paused to take a rest, weary with the journey’s toil. As he waited, he felt the presence of something watching him. His hunter’s instincts prepared him to capture whatever foul thing was stalking him. His muscles tensed, and the moment it pounced he was ready to seize the beast that had attempted to waylay him.

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow OW!” came the voice of the animal he had pinned.

“You’re a cat!” Luca said, moving to grab it by the scruff of the neck and hold it up to his eyes. It was yellow with brown-tipped ears and eyes so green such as only cats have.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me go,” it begged. “I was just having some fun. The lace on one of your boots has fallen loose, and flies about every time you shift your foot. For a cat, it tempts one so. I had to pounce on it. I can’t help being what I am.”

“I suppose not,” Luca said, and placed it on the ground.

“Thank you,” it said cheerfully, frolicking around his feet and batting at the loose lace. “Say, where are you going? I would gladly help you in exchange for even a meagre piece of string.”

“I seek the Lord of the Lake, although I know not where to find him,” Luca said.

“I’ve heard, I’ve heard!” said the cat. “He lives in the lake in the middle of the forest. Follow the unbeaten path of bluebells, and there you will find him,” said the cat. “But!—he will not come out unless you give a fitting offering, and he will not emerge if he sees you before he has accepted it.”

“How can a cat know so much?” Luca asked.

“Some days I pretend I’m a dumb household beast and eavesdrop on the conversations of humans. They’re very interesting, and they feed me well. Do you have any food?”

“Not to spare, but I will give you the string, from my very own boots, if I must, if you’ll lead me at least as far as the forest you speak of.”

“Why not now?” it asked.

“So you don’t get distracted and forget your part of the bargain.”

It looked sulky, but its mood changed as soon as it spoke. “Follow me,” it said, dashing off through the foothills. Luca ran as swiftly as he could, trying to keep up. After a long journey into the night they finally arrived at the wood’s edge. 

“I dare not go any farther than here,” the cat said, “for the foothills are my home, but if you follow my words you will surely reach the Lord of the Lake.”

“Thank you for your aid,” Luca said, cutting off a piece of the lacings on his right boot.

The cat did not respond, for upon receiving the string it was overcome with euphoria and began excitedly chewing on it and flinging it around, leading a mad chase. That was the last Luca ever saw of the strangely marked cat. 

Weary with travel, the huntsman was quick to take his rest under the eaves of the forest and slept soundly through the night. The following morning he ventured into the wood, coming to rest on a pine stump to eat his morning meal and think of how he might please the lake lord. The wind passed lightly through the forest, rustling the leaves almost as a kind of music. It came to him then that perhaps the lord would be pleased by an instrument. 

Luca cut a long branch and began whittling it into the proper shape. When he finished its form, he realized he had nothing to string it with (and the cat had run away). As he pondered this, he heard the sound of someone walking down the path. A man approached whose appearance belied his age, for the years seemed to weigh heavier in spirit than the youthful visage suggested.

“Hail, stranger!” said Luca.

“Hail!” he replied, coming to stand before him. “A fine lyre that is, but it is no use without strings.”

“Indeed, but I have no skill to make them,” replied Luca.

“You are fortunate that I have,” the man said. “Cut me four hairs from your head, and I will transform them for you.”

Luca obliged, watching the shaman work his magic with awe.

“What shall I give in return?” Luca asked as he accepted the magic strings.

“You will repay me through your future deeds, for I have read the bones, and all that I need I already know. Farewell, huntsman,” the shaman said, disappearing in a sudden fog.

Luca was mystified by the encounter, but knew he could not waste time, for the Firebird was many days ahead of him, and the forest was vast. He strung the lyre with as much skill as a huntsman could muster, and continued on his journey. It was late in the night when he finally stopped in a starry glade. “I shall take my rest until morning,” he decided, and made camp, sorely missing the flint and tinder he had given away.

The early morning chill awoke Luca. The sun had not yet risen, but the sky was slowly lightening, bringing a low light into the clearing. As he opened his eyes he caught sight of the sea of violet-blue flowers trailing away from the edge of the glade, into the depths of the forest. Hurriedly he gathered his pack and walked through the bluebells that formed an unbeaten trail through the woods. At first it led left and right, so many turns it felt as if it were leading him in circles, until it began a slow and straight descent. At the edge of the trees he spied another shade of blue, and came out to the edge of a tranquil lake in the midst of the forest. 

Remembering the cat’s words, he placed the wooden lyre at the edge of the water, retreating out of sight behind the large willow tree. As he waited the sun began to rise, filling the clearing with bright light. Slowly out of the water crawled a turtle, wading onto the grassy shore. Another followed and then another, until scores of turtles had formed a semi-circle around the harp. Finally, out of the water emerged a much greater figure, a willowy man with robes of kelp and hair of algae, his face grave but not altogether unkind. He picked up the lyre from the ground, striking it once and then twice in succession. A loud ringing sound echoed across the lake, so bright and piercing in its tone Luca’s hands immediately went to cover his ears. When it had quietened, the lake lord began to speak.

“I call before me the bearer of this fine gift; he has earned the counsel of Lord Shin of the Lake,” he called in a voice that reminded the huntsman of the lapping of the waves against the shore.

“It was I who fashioned this gift for you, o powerful lord, for I am in great need of your counsel,” Luca proclaimed, stepping forward and kneeling before him. “I am Houou no Luca and I search for the Firebird.”

“I have heard of your quest, Houou no Luca. My pets have brought much news to me of a young traveler from the eastern kingdom searching for the mythical fowl.”

“Have you then any counsel for me?” Luca asked, lifting his head to meet the wise eyes of the watery king.

“Follow the forest path until you reach a fork in the road. You must choose the left path, for magic favours the sinister, and continue until the forest ends at the edge of a great ravine. Descend and there you shall come upon an empty hut at the foot of the cliff face. Stay there but one night and the next dawn you will spy the Firebird circling above the great ravine. If you are stealthy in your pursuit, you will find the Firebird’s nesting place within days of coming there.”

“Thank you, o great lord, for your incalculable aid,” Luca said, bowing his head once more.

The Lord of the Lake turned to go, but not before saying a warning unto the weary traveler. “Beings of great magic are not always as they appear, and those who search for the Firebird always meet with misery by the end of their journey. You are no different.” The lake lord slowly slipped back into the water until nothing more could be seen, the rows and rows of turtles silently following their master into the pale water.

Luca traced the bluebell path until he reached the forest road again. He walked for many hours before reaching a two-pronged fork in the path. Looking upon the left-hand course he blanched, for it seemed altogether unwholesome. As he hesitated to move, a short figure sitting to the right stood to its feet. It was swathed completely in a brown cloak, stirring Luca’s curiosity.

“You don’t want to go down that road, my friend,” a voice came from under the hood.

“What do you know of it?” asked Luca.

“When one walks down a road like that, it’s very easy to slip between the realms. You might find yourself walking a path into the Forest of Darkness down that road. Now come with me and I’ll see you to a safer end,” it said, taking Luca’s hand and guiding him to the right.

Luca protested and tried pulling his hand away. “I have been counselled by Lord Shin of the Lake to take the left-hand path, no matter how sinister it may be.”

Tugging more strongly, the small figure continued its insistence. “I know a way around the dangerous places. Come with me and I shall see you to the same point you seek, but you must not go down that road. Trust in me.” 

It seemed to Luca then that the once clear right-hand path began to darken and close in on them. Luca violently wrenched his hand from the figure—such was the force he found himself tumbling to the ground. In the tussle the creature had lost its cloak, revealing a goblin, grey-skinned and squat-bodied. It ran towards Luca, its snake-like tongue darting out between sharpened teeth. With one great kick Luca sent it flying backwards. Jumping to his feet, he ran back towards the left-hand path, brushing aside the obstructive branches and hopping over exposed roots. In the distance he could hear the loud screams of the goblin, cursing the Lord of the Lake for taking his quarry from him once again.

For many hours Luca walked, the path never easing or becoming brighter until finally the huntsman stopped for a rest. He spotted a great oak tree decorated in a purple crown of wisteria, so grand many of its giant roots had turned back to rise above the soil. He was about to lie against it when he spotted an axe lying carelessly next to it. It seemed strangely out of place, being worn but well-maintained, so that its owner couldn’t have left it there more than a few days. As he inspected it he heard a stirring in the earth behind him. Turning around he saw several great roots rising from the ground, reaching for him. Gripping the axe, he swung it at the tentacle-like roots that flew at him, but upon hacking through three of the possessed roots twenty more rose up, poised to strike.

Biting back his fear, Luca dropped the axe and dug into his satchel for the dragon’s gift. Opening the small box, he paused seeing a tiny blue flame dancing along the rim. After a moment’s thought, he tried gently blowing against the small flame as he faced the flurry of attacking roots. Upon contact the blue flame spouted forth like dragon’s fire, massive and blazing, consuming the oak tree. As he stood back, watching the blue flames turn the tree to ash he heard a human cry from a pile of still-resisting roots. Taking the axe in hand he hewed at the tough wood, slowly uncovering the figure of a red-haired man struggling against his captivity. Luca stretched his hand out to the man, bracing himself against the stubborn roots to hold them open long enough for the other to escape. The red-haired man wrested himself out of the tree’s grasp, he and Luca collapsing onto the ground to watch as the whole tree was finally consumed by the dragon’s flame. As the tree withered away into ash, the red-haired man at last spoke to him. 

“Thank you for aiding me,” the weary man said, “I feared I might never see the light of day again.”

“What happened to you, stranger?” asked Luca.

“I am but a simple woodcutter, living by the bounty of the forest and the strength of my limbs. I was weary as I passed this part of the woods and came to rest against that magnificent oak tree, hoping its shade would offer a tired man rest. It was much later I awoke to find myself coiled in its thick roots, unable to move, forced to listen to its dark whisperings.”

“What sort of thing must it have been to do that?” 

“I never paid it any heed, but I now believe that it was the tree spoken of in stories from my childhood, not a tree but, in fact, a wizard.” 

“May I ask the story?” Luca inquired, getting to his feet and examining the purple-grey ash that covered the ground.

“Certainly. It is said there was once a man arrogant and cold, who refused to cooperate with the other magicians of his great clan. It’s said one day he abandoned the home of his kin after an argument, running to the forest for solace. Although his kinsman came to mend ways after their quarrel, so stubborn was he that he took root, never leaving the ground he retreated to. And so he became the grandest tree in the forest and a menace to weary travellers.”

Hearing the story, Luca was moved to pity for the bitter man that lay in ashes at his feet.

“I must thank you again for saving me from those branches. My name is Kirin no Judas and I am indebted to you.”

“I am Houou no Luca, and I quest for the Firebird,” Luca said in reply.

“I fear I cannot help you by my stories in this matter, but perhaps if you need a brave companion I could serve at your side for awhile.”

Luca thought deeply on this. “I am grateful for your offer and would appreciate the companionship, but the quest for the Firebird brings misery, and the quest is meant only for myself.”

“Surely there is something I may do in return?” asked Judas.

“There might be. You see, I am deeply troubled about the welfare of someone who aided me not long past. Less than half a day’s march from here lies a well-hidden lake, reached only by following the unbeaten path of bluebells along the dell. If you could reach the lake and scour the water’s edge for any sign of danger, my worries would be much relieved.”

“Consider it done, my friend,” Judas said, clasping Luca’s arm in farewell. Retrieving his axe, the woodcutter walked with purpose down the path Luca had come from.

After the strange encounter with the woodcutter and the oak tree, Luca felt once again invigorated and so continued his westward journey through the forest. The sun began to sink toward the horizon, and Luca almost despaired of reaching the end of the trees before nightfall. Having no desire to rest in the forest following his last encounter, however, he pushed on, reaching the ravine just as the sun glowed its reddest, slipping beneath the far horizon. Now that the light was gone however, Luca did not know how he was to descend the ravine in the dark. 

He pulled out the dragon’s gift once more, but the flickering flame was there no more. He could retrieve some wood from the forest to make a torch, but he had no flint with which to strike up a flame. As he lingered at the cliff’s edge the night began to set in deeper, a blue and black curtain enclosing the sky. As the moon started to peek over the horizon, the strange reeds growing along the cliff began to glow, the moonlight reflected in their white caps. Looking down into the ravine he could see thousands of the reeds lining the cliff-face, scattered to guide the footsteps of the night traveller. With renewed hope Luca began his descent into the still, dark depths. 

Reaching the end of the trail, Luca made out the shape of a small hut nearby. He hurried to the shelter, ready for rest. Outside the house he saw a pile of firewood stacked neatly, a sharp stone resting atop it. Thanking his luck, he entered the dark house carrying an armful of wood, building a quick fire in the small fireplace. Under the glow of the fire he could see a small cot lined against the wall of the hovel, and a cut stump serving for a chair. Exhausted by the long day’s travel, he quickly laid himself down to sleep.

In the middle of the night he was roused from his slumber, startled by the cry of wolves outside the door. He resisted the urge to flee, for the lake lord had told him to wait in the hut, and surely his safety depended on it. Had he perceived the gaze of the golden-eyed man at the window upon him, he might have been moved to rash action out of fear, but in his ignorance he slept, if fitfully, through the night as the wolf cries dwindled farther away.

The huntsman awoke at dawn the next morning, pulled from sleep by the enchanting song of a bird. He rushed out of the house to see the Firebird flashing in the sunlight, flying above the ravine before winging south. The huntsman quickly gathered his pack and began his careful chase, stalking it warily, stopping only for food and water. At the end of the first day, Luca had passed from the ravine and into the lowlands of the southwest. Always at night it disappeared from the sky and returned again on the horizon the next morning. 

After many days spent wandering the lowlands, the huntsman was ready to set his trap, for the gap was drawing closer and he knew now its habits. He, too, understood why the king so longed for the bird, for its colours outshone the sun and its song held a music unmatched by worldly things. For many nights the huntsman had slowly built his cage from the bounty of the lowlands, and prepared the bait that would lure in his prey. The Firebird had a fondness for apples it seemed, always seeking out the most perfectly red fruits. 

Stringing his trap in the low apple tree, Luca searched in the moonlight for the bait. It was nearly morning when he found at last one fine apple that would truly tempt the bird and placed it beneath the trap. He climbed into the tree and waited for dawn. He watched the Firebird from afar flying across the plains until at last it came to him and spotted the ruddy apple upon the ground. As it pecked at the fruit, Luca released the trap, catching his quarry at last.

The bird cried loudly, throwing itself against the cage that entrapped it. Luca looked at the beautifully coloured bird beating its wings wildly and his heart was filled with disquiet. He tried to reassure it gently, but nothing could quell its vain struggle until at last it grew tired and stopped beating its wings, only to sound out many sorrowful cries. The huntsman was torn between the duty to his father and his pity for the creature, for its wailing and its eyes that held a human’s suffering, but it was the huntsman’s merciful nature that prevailed. 

“You were not mine to cage,” Luca said, and lifted the trap free. 

A fire seemed to engulf the bird then, flames darting high, causing Luca to step back and cover his eyes. In a flash it disappeared, and when Luca uncovered his eyes he saw standing before him the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

“Are you the one who freed me from my curse?” asked the man, whose eyes shone truly as red as the Firebird’s. 

“You are the Firebird,” Luca said.

“I am no other. I was a prince of the south, put under enchantment by an evil sorcerer to forever roam the skies, my true nature unknown even to me, until I should be set free.”

“What is your name, fair prince?” 

“My name is Rei, although I am no longer a prince. So long as you wish it I will stay by your side.”

They tarried long in those lowlands, for they had many things to speak of and the huntsman wished to forget his burdens for awhile, but each day the heart of the huntsman grew heavier, until finally the prince questioned him.

“Do you wish to send me away?” Rei asked, troubled by the huntsman’s expression.

“Do you not wish to return to your kingdom? You will only meet with unhappiness here,” said Luca.

“What cause have I to be unhappy? I do not wish to leave so long as you will keep me here, for, whatever your station, you have proved to have the heart of a king—one of compassion and mercy.”

“Alas,” Luca replied, “although I am the son of a king, my fate is full of misfortune and I would not have you share it. Perhaps this is the misery the lake lord spoke of. To prove my birthright I was ordered to capture the Firebird, and returning with nothing I shall welcome the king’s wrath. But, indeed, my honour compels me to return.”

“But I am the Firebird and you have found me,” Rei said. “Let us journey to your father’s lands and then we may be happy, for I can freely change my shape now that the curse is broken and shall provide the proof.”

“Then I am saved,” Luca said, taking the prince’s hands in gratitude.

“And so long as I am free I shall be only yours,” Rei said, and pledged his promise with a kiss.

The lovers did not hurry their journey to the eastern kingdom, for there was much of the world they had never seen (and those in the first bloom of love lose time easily), but at last they made their way back to the lands of the king. Clasping hands, they gazed on the great distant city and began their walk into the heart of the kingdom.

Upon entering the palace, they were met with by one of the king’s officials. 

“I seek an audience with the king, for I am his only son,” said Luca.

“But you were not to return without the prize you sought,” the golden-haired official said. “Unless you have come here because you have failed?”

“I have fulfilled the king’s quest, and shall provide the proper proof.”

The official eyed the huntsman and his companion with suspicion, but (being a judicious fellow) arranged for an audience quickly. At last the pair was brought to the throne room, which was no less resplendent than Luca remembered it. A dark expression was on the king’s face, for he had met with very little rest of late, troubled by dragons and rumours of rebellion.

“Where is the Firebird that you had promised me, or have you proved a faithless and unworthy son?” the king asked.

“I have not proved faithless, for I travelled many lands in search of the Firebird, and have returned with it at my side. I have kept my oath, for here is the Firebird,” spoke the huntsman and the prince stepped forward and transformed into the beautiful bird that once circled the king’s orchards.

The king looked on in wonder, before speaking. “You have done well, my son,” he said and gave a signal to his guards, who threw a net upon the enchanted form of the prince, for the official was shrewd and had informed the king of his suspicions, allowing him to set a cruel trap.

The huntsman lunged for the net but was restrained by the guardsmen. “I have not proved faithless, so you must set him free,” Luca said, watching as the bird struggled against the net, squawking loudly.

“You have brought the Firebird to me and now it is mine to keep,” said the king, who looked on the creature as no more than a possession. 

The huntsman fought off the guards, reaching for his knife and running frantically towards the net, but he was subdued once more, his fighting in vain. Enraged at the defiance of his son, the king ordered the guards to take him away. 

“Throw him outside the city gates and strike out his eyes, and never shall he be welcomed in this city again. I have no use for a disobedient son,” said the king. And in cruel spirit these things were carried out, leaving the huntsman to lead the life of a blind beggar, wandering the land beset with heavy grief and regret.

The Firebird was placed in a magnificent cage in the menagerie, and many times the king went to gaze at it, encouraging it to change its shape again, fascinated by its magic, but it could no longer transform or understand the speech of man, for it had once again turned into a dumb beast. The king grew full of anger, for since its capture his prize fowl had sung only in lament, and the colour of its feathers faded daily, becoming grey and moulting. 

The servant who took care of the bird watched sadly as its fire withered every day, until finally one night he went to his brother in tears. “The Firebird is dying,” he sobbed. “Can we not save it, brother?” The older brother was not as quickly moved to pity as the younger, and he saw the bird as sorry and weak, but his brother’s tears stirred his heart.

“Let us hatch a plan,” the older brother said, and they plotted carefully how they might free the bird from its cage and leave the city before they were caught. The next day was a great festival, and the king had called on champions throughout the land to vie for a position among his elite forces. Much of the palace would be empty and the wine would be flowing freely. That morning the elder brother brought a cup of wine to each of his fellow sentinels, secretly drugged with a sleeping herb. When they fell under its spell, the younger brother unlocked the bird’s cage and threw open the window.

“Fly free and return nevermore,” he said to the Firebird, who took off into the sky in a flash of pale light. The brothers gathered their belongings and left the palace as swiftly as they could.

The king’s rage at the loss of the Firebird and the growing insubordination towards his kingship was so great he shut himself in the sepulchre of his ancestors to sleep an enchanted sleep until his anger and weariness passed. And this is how the huntsman paid back the shaman, who entered the court as an aide to the Queen (who now ruled the land, although these matters were kept quite secret).

Time passed wearily as Luca wandered the lands, unseeing, begging for food and shelter. Everywhere he travelled he asked for news of the Firebird. Little was told to him except that it was still in the king’s keeping, who would not let it go. A year and a day after the end of his quest, he found himself begging shelter in a small town not far from lands he had once travelled. Two homes rejected him before the last said, “Head west into the woods. Not a mile hence lives a simple woodcutter. You’ll have more luck with him.”

Luca journeyed through the wood and was struck by a strange familiarity. Although he could not see the forest, it felt as though he had been there before. He heard the sound of an axe hewing wood, and knew he had come to the right place. He walked towards the sound and cried out. “I come to beg for shelter, for I am blind and struck down by many sorrows.” He was surprised to feel the woodcutter’s hands upon his shoulders.

“Can it be, my friend, that it is you?” came the woodcutter’s voice, one he had not heard in a very long time.

“It is me,” Luca said, recognizing the man he had saved from the oak tree.

“You are most welcome to stay,” Judas said, guiding him towards the house. “I owe much to you.”

“It was nothing,” Luca said, sitting down in the chair provided for him. 

“I did not forget the promise I made you. Would you like to hear the tale?”

“Certainly,” said Luca, “if it is a happier story than those I’ve known of late.”

“It is. I followed the bluebell path as you instructed, and there a grey demon was about to spring upon the unsuspecting lord of the waters. I hewed off its head with my axe before it could reach him, and now every night the Lord of the Lake plays his lyre for me, and speaks with me by the water’s edge.”

“My heart is glad to hear it,” said Luca. 

“But whatever has happened to you since we last met? Did you truly meet with the foretold miseries?”

“Verily I did,” said Luca. “I sought the most precious prize and lost it as quickly to my foolishness. I was blind then and so am fitly blinded now. The king caged the Firebird and left me to roam, alone in the dark. I shall never see my love again.”

“Then I give you my pity,” Judas said.

As they sat in the woodcutter’s home, Luca heard approaching footsteps, making a squelching sound as if they had come through heavy rain, although the day was fair. At the knock on the door both men rose, and Judas went over to greet the new guest.

“Good eventide,” spoke the calm voice of the lake lord. Luca heard the lord turn towards him. “You have returned at last,” said Lord Shin, “and not with what you sought.”

“So I have,” Luca said, hanging his head low.

“I gave you warning,” Lord Shin said, “but it seems I owe you yet another favour, so I will tell you also this. The past two days above my waters I have heard the calling of a bird, and seen it cross the sky. It is a pale shade of its former light, but it is the same Firebird you sought.”

“Then I must go,” said Luca, and headed out the door, leaving even his staff behind.

“Do you not need a guide?” asked Judas.

“His heart will remember better than his eyes, and guide his feet for him,” Lord Shin said sagely as they watched the huntsman leave.

True as the lake lord spoke, Luca made his way as if through living memory down the path of bluebells to the watery shore. He waited long at the water’s edge but could hear nothing. Suddenly the wailing began, sounding from afar and he sprang up to his feet trying to make his way towards it. Forgetting where he was he entered the lake and stumbled, falling into the shallow waters. 

The Firebird, which had been singing its laments without knowing the cause of its own sorrows, saw the blind man fall and quickly dove towards the water. The source of its compulsion unknown, it did not flinch to touch the water—only to find its fiery colour quenched and its form sinking beneath the waves, slowly drowning. Its last wish was that it could save the huntsman, even if it could not be saved itself, and tears shed in selflessness fell from its eyes into the water that it was powerless against.

And then something about the water changed.

Luca struggled to sit up, humiliated by his fall, but as he pulled himself from the water it seemed that he was surrounded by light. He realized it was the light of the sun. His eyes saw the waking world once more and the first image he beheld, resting before him in the shallows, was his love, now restored from his enchanted form. For the lake had a magic to it, you see, and so did the Firebird’s tears, but truly the greatest magic at work in that moment was that born from their hearts. Luca reached out for his lover, now free once more and together they shared in tears and laughter and joy—and if they have not died yet, they still live happily.


End file.
